A Father's Touch
by capercailiechild
Summary: A killed docent troubles Gibbs and company for one reason: his terminally ill daughter may be next.
1. Who Killed Him?

A Father's Touch: Chapter One: Will She Be All Right at NCIS?

The pale woman at the door raised her hand to her mouth when she came to let them in, but she didn't look that surprised. In fact, she looked as though she was used to sorrow, and Gibbs felt bad that she had seen so much to distress her. She was still young, but her blue eyes were fixed with a sadness that made her seem older, her mouth turning down. "Welcome," she said softly as they entered. "I'm Susan Rusby. Please, come in."

Once she had closed the door behind them, she led them into the living room, where they took seats on the flowered couch. "What can I do for you today?"

"I'm Jethro Gibbs," Gibbs said. "We're from NCIS."

"So this _is_ about Peter," she said sadly.

"Yes ma'am, we're here about Peter," Gibbs agreed. "Your husband's body was discovered at the Museum this morning. We're here to take you to identify him."

"Who killed him?" Susan wanted to know.

"We're not sure yet," Gibbs said gently.

"Are you going to find out?"

"Yes ma'am, we will."

Susan stood. "Well then, let's get this over with."

She moved into the hallway and opened the coat closet, searching for a cardigan sweater to don over her white blouse and khaki skirt, her stockings and sensible flat shoes. Then she stopped. "My daughter isn't home from school yet," she said, as though this had just occurred to her. She twisted the shoulder of the blue button-down sweater in her hands. "Would it be all right if we waited for her?"

"Yes, that would be fine," Gibbs said.

"Would either of you like anything to drink?" she asked, putting the sweater back into the closet. "I have some lemonade made up, and there's coffee and tea."

"Coffee, if it's not a problem," Gibbs said.

Susan moved past them into the kitchen, Tony and Gibbs following. She poured some ground coffee into the coffee maker and turned it on. Gibbs checked his watch; it was half-past two. "What time does your daughter arrive home?" Gibbs asked quietly.

"She'll be home by three," Susan answered. "I'd really like to wait for her, if it's possible."

"It is," Gibbs said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "We'll have some coffee. I'd actually like to ask you a few questions about your husband."

They sat at the island. Tony and Gibbs drank their coffee while Gibbs asked Susan questions about Peter's service in the Navy, and how he'd come to work at the Naval Museum. She answered quietly at first, then becoming a little more animated when telling about how much Peter loved cataloguing artifacts at the museum and telling visitors about famous sea battles.

At three o'clock Susan got up, rinsed both visitors' coffee cups, and put her cardigan sweater on, stepping outside onto the porch. Gibbs and Tony followed her. A school bus pulled up not long after that. The door for wheelchair access opened and a woman in a blue T-shirt was on it, helping to position a girl in a wheelchair on the lift. The girl lifted her arm and waved to Susan; her arm was covered in white, gauzy bandages.

As soon as the lift touched the ground, the girl shifted her hand to the motorized controls and came towards Susan and the front porch. "Hi, Mom!" she sang. Gibbs could see her closely now; she was no more than thirteen, wearing a jaunty blue-and-purple striped knit cap over her head. Two long reddish braids stuck out from under the cap. Her body, as much as he could see, was completely wrapped in white bandages, over which she wore a black T-shirt with a black-and-red picture of a pale-faced girl and the slogan "Emily the Strange," and a pair of black yoga pants. Her left leg had been amputated at the knee, and there was a large scab on the right side of her face, but she appeared cheery.

"Hi, honey," Susan said, trying to sound brave.

"Jimmy asked me to the dance today!" the girl said. "The Spring Fling. He was going to ask Mary Lakoff but then he decided to ask me. Kimmy's going with Andrew and…"

She stopped, looking up at Gibbs and Tony. "Mom? Who are these people?"

"Ariel, this is Mr. Gibbs and Mr. DiNozzo from NCIS. We need to go with them; they need to speak with me for awhile."

"Is it about Dad?" the girl asked, her eyes going wide.

Susan nodded, closing her own eyes.

The teenager became suddenly solemn. "Okay, let's go."

"If you wish, you can meet us there," Gibbs suggested. "That might be easier."

"Yes, thank you," Susan said. "We'll be there in twenty minutes."

She turned back to look at Gibbs. "Will she be all right at NCIS?"

Gibbs nodded. "Yes, she will be. Let's go, what must be done cannot wait."

* * *

Reviews are my best buddies, and prevent me from doing the "Maureen dance" from "Rent." 


	2. Hold Your Ponies

Chapter Two: Hold Your Ponies

They arrived in the bullpen twenty minutes later. Ziva and McGee were both seated at their desks, looking through files. When McGee saw Gibbs, he leapt from his seat and began chattering away: "Boss, got the data from the rest of the Museum employees, we've got one of them here because his alibi didn't check out…"

Ziva interrupted. "Hold your ponies, Timothy."

McGee stopped talking and looked at her. Tony, coming up behind McGee, helped out: "She means hold your _horses_, Probie."

"Oh," McGee said, and said nothing else.

"Ziva, will you take Mrs. Rusby to see Ducky? What's the name of the guy we have here?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"His name is Sergeant Walter Paulson, boss," McGee said.

"Okay. I'll go take care of him. You heard me, Agent David," Gibbs said, and disappeared down the hall.

Susan turned to the girl sitting behind her in the wheelchair. "Ariel, _please_ be good."

The girl nodded. "Okay."

Once her mother had disappeared with Gibbs, she said, "So, what do you guys do for fun around here?"

McGee raised his eyes from his file to take in the girl. He saw all of her bandages and her quizzical face. He couldn't say anything for a moment, so she filled the gap, "Epidermolysis bullosa."

"Oh," he said.

"You're allowed to stare," she said. "I don't mind being different… not as long as you tell me what you do for fun."

"Well…" McGee said, thinking. "Do you like Caf-Pows?"

* * *

Reviews make me happy. 


	3. Sorry to Interrupt

Chapter Three: Sorry to Interrupt

Weird Al was blaring from the lab, a strange change from Twisted Sister and Alien Progeny and Android Lust. McGee gestured with his hand as the elevator doors open, showing Ariel the blue-painted walls and all of the scientific equipment. "It's Weird Al," Ariel said.

Abby had her back to them. "I'm glad _someone_ recognizes this genius for what it is, because…" She turned and stopped speaking. "Oh. Hi."

"This is Ariel Rusby," McGee said. "We're talking to her mother now… I thought she could keep you company."

"Sure," Abby said. "I'm just running tests for the Langston case."

"Great." McGee's cell phone blared and he ripped it from his belt, moving towards the elevator as he spoke into it: "Yeah, boss, I'm on my way."

Abby and Ariel were left alone, Ariel looking up at the much-taller Goth. "I like Weird Al," she managed to say.

"I love Emily Strange," Abby confessed, smiling a little at Ariel's shirt.

"Me too!" Ariel began to look around.

"What'cha looking for?" Abby wanted to know.

"McGee… is that his name? He said you have Caf-Pows."

"That we do!" Abby said, and with a sweeping gesture encompassed the lab table where not one but two Caf-Pows were situated. "Gibbs must have known you were coming."

"_I _knew we were coming," Ariel said softly.

Abby turned from getting the Caf-Pows off the table. "Your father is Major Rusby, isn't he?"

"_Was_," Ariel corrected.

"Oh," Abby said, her face falling. "I'm sorry."

"No, it's all right," Ariel said, accepting one of the Caf-Pows from Abby. She took a cautious sip. "Lime! My favorite."

"Mine too," Abby said.

"How are you going to find who killed my father?" Ariel asked.

"Gibbs will figure out who it was," Abby said confidently. The song switched to "EBay." Ariel took another sip of Caf-Pow. "He doesn't let anyone get away with anything."

"Dad said he didn't want to go into the Witness Protection Program, he wasn't going to live his life in fear. We didn't even move out of Larkspur after he found out they were after him."

"Who are _they_, Ariel?"

Abby and Ariel both turned to see who had been speaking. It was a woman in her forties, with closely cropped red hair. "Sorry to interrupt. I'm Director Jen Shepherd. Pleased to meet you, Ariel."

She stepped forward and held out her hand for Ariel to shake. Ariel raised her own thickly bandaged hand and set it gently in the Director's.

"The Arcadian Seven," Ariel clarified, removing her hand from Jen's. "They were the ones who put the contract out on Dad in the first place, after he witnessed one of their guys kill his best friend."

"His best friend – can you tell me who that was?"

"Maxwell Russo. _Captain_ Maxwell Russo," Ariel said. "It was three years ago that he saw Maxwell die. The hit's only a few months old. Seemed the guys in the Arcadian Seven just found out it was Dad who witnessed the murder… they'd been looking for him for awhile."

Jen processed this information as Ariel took another drink from her Caf-Pow. The Director then said, "Your father shared all this with you, Ariel?"

"He wanted to make sure I knew the truth. He didn't want me to get the information from anyone else. He said he would tell me the truth so I would know when other people were lying. He said they would make up stories about him to make him look bad."

Abby set down her Caf-Pow.

"Why did your father refuse to join the Witness Protection Program?" the director wanted to know. "That would have been the smartest decision."

Abby turned so she was looking at Jen. "Director Shepherd, I really don't think…"

"He wasn't afraid of the Arcadian Seven," Ariel shot back. "He was going to show them what he was made of… he was a good man, the _best_."

Tears began to roll down her face. Abby slid off her chair and went towards the bandaged girl, unsure whether or not to hug her. Then her best intentions came over her, and Abby wrapped her arms around the sobbing teenage girl.

"I'll leave you alone," Director Shepherd said, realizing that she had been too forward. She edged towards the door.

"That might be a good idea," Abby said, resting her chin on Ariel's head.

When she looked back again, the director had left. "Shh, it's all right," Abby said. "Would you like a Kleenex?"

Ariel looked up. She was no longer crying, but tears streaked her face. "Yes," she said solemnly.

Abby pulled one from the box and then looked back at the girl. "Do you want to do this?"

"You can," Ariel said definitively. "Don't rub. Pat."

Abby nodded and leaned in to pat the tears off Ariel's face. "Sorry about the Director," she said. "She only wants to help… but she's not much good with kids."

"It's all right," Ariel replied as Abby finished wiping away her tears. "I'm not much of a kid anyway."

"Nonsense," Abby said. "Everyone is a kid with the right tools."

She set the box of Kleenex on the table that was cluttered with tools, test tubes, books, files, folders, and an assortment of evidence bags from the Langston case. "Let's see what I've got."

Ariel watching, Abby began to move around the lab. From one file cabinet drawer, she removed a packet of brightly-colored ribbons. From another, a box of Blo-Pops. "Will these do?" she asked, turning back to Ariel.

Ariel shrugged. "You are the expert, apparently."

"Yes I am," Abby agreed. She began to cut long lengths from the rolls of ribbon, tying them carefully into Ariel's braids. "Here. Eat this." She handed Ariel a Blo-Pop, but then reconsidered. "_Can_ you eat that?"

Ariel nodded, the ribbons bobbing in her hair. "Suckers are okay. For the rest…" She lifted her shirt and gestured with her chin to the plastic G-tube cover in her stomach. "Mom pumps stuff in, and somehow we keep living the good life. Occasional treats, like Blo-Pops and those…" – she nodded at the Caf-Pow – "are okay. Mom worries if I eat too many cookies, though."

"Everybody's mom worries if they eat too many cookies," Abby said.

Before either could say anything else, Gibbs strode into the laboratory. "Abby, stop working on the Langston case. The evidence from the Rusby case is coming up in twenty minutes and I want you to focus all your attention on it. Nobody rests until we find out who did this."

He looked over at Ariel, who had the stick of the watermelon Blo-Pop sticking out of her mouth. "We're going to find out who took your dad from you."

The look in her eyes seemed to say she understood.

* * *

I like reviews almost as much as I like cookies. Which is quite a bit. 


End file.
